Wings of the Wraith: The Champion
by Crystallion12
Summary: Zarkon wasn't dead. But Shiro had much worse to worry about. As the deafening shouts of the blood-lusting crowd echo, he tries to block out the scent of blood, the smoke stinging his eyes, and he remembers what Prince Lotor had said... "The undefeated and the undaunted… The gladiator of blood, metal and bone… And the ghost within that is found, will be the Guardian of the Sky."


**Wings of the Wraith:**

 **The Champion.**

* * *

 _Alternate Universe, Post Season 2, Episode 13- SPOILERS FROM S1E1 – S2E13. Written BEFORE Season 3's Premiere._

 **Genres:** Angst/Horror/Hurt  & Comfort/Fantasy/Action/Mystery.

 **Rated T** for mature and dark themes: (In some scenes, extreme- Gore, violence-) , enslavement, confused and somewhat one-sided romantic attraction, threats, death, starvation, gladiator battles, (possible; won't be extensive- explicit language) , torture, flashbacks, dark magic, themes of heartache and extreme angst, Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder in full force, and…

Oh you get the idea. I'm being 'forced' to hurt my favourite Space Cubs and their Space Dad… Mainly the daddy. Don't know where the Cubs will come in. Oh well.

 **RATINGS WILL BE LABELED IF THEMES ARE PRESENT IN SELECTED CHAPTER.**

 **Reader Discrimination Advised.**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor lay claim to our beautiful Paladins, the Galra Space Prince that's hot (and I know basically nothing about?) and the Universe of _Voltron: Legendary Defender_. Rights lay with- err- the creators…? I mean, there's so many versions… WHO OWNS IT?

The **Cover Art** of this story, for a change because I was inspired to try and draw something for this, is illustrated and created by Crystallion12 (AKA me, thank you very much), and I would very much appreciate it if you'd not stick your name on it- like, I signed it? -and say it's now yours. The artwork can be found on my DeviantArt account, my penname also Crystallion12 there.

…Yeah, this thing's so stupidly long.

In later chapters, only the necessary Rating Warnings and the Summary will be listed. Imma not gonna bother copying and pasting _every single time_. I'm not!

 **-Crystallion12**

* * *

 **Prologue: Captured.**

This had to be a nightmare.

But how _could_ it be? It was hard to imagine this sort of thing in such clarity, and he'd known it well- he'd _know_ if it were a mere illusion of his shattered soul by now.

It was horribly true to his memories, the feelings and the emotions- they seemed to be slyly coiling around his scattered but vivid few memories, which seemed more haunting than ever. They grinned at him in the darkness of his mind, sharp teeth scraping the edges of his weak resolve.

The never-ending, burning, aching pain in his limbs said everything.

Shiro was definitely _not_ getting up. Not willingly. But the floor was freezing, and steely hard- after however long he'd been sleeping in the almost ridiculously soft and cushy beds provided by the Castle of Lions, now this was stark and painful and terrifying familiar. As was the icy, rubbing sensation of chains wrapped around his neck.

 _Chains around his neck._

On that groggy second thought, maybe he would get up. It was suddenly odd; it almost made him sound uncharacteristic and lazy, which he knew he wasn't. And he was scared. But… He, a Paladin of Voltron, the one of the five who _basically never slept_ \- suddenly desiring nothing less, nothing more, than to just stay where he was. Yes. That sounded nice. Just stay still, let the sound of a lightly humming ship lull him back to his weird nap…

A sudden, sharp pain in the back of his throat.

 _Ouch. Well, that hurt…_

… _A ship?_

Apparently, something roared to attention in his mind. His foot started to move; slowly and sluggishly. Slower by far, from what it should be like…

Shiro opened his eyes and blinked slowly. Dark walls and the faint purple glow of the Galra.

Emotions froze his senses.

 _Fear. Confusion. Shock. Horror. Desperation. Fury. Longing. Tiredness. Devastation._

 _Not again._

 _Please… Not again. This can't happen. Voltron- my team- Black- Allura-_

"It's been forever," He hears. It's a dark, deep, amused sort of rumble- quiet and morbid. It sends shivers of fear down his spine, as the cold drags on his trembling. "It's unfortunate I won't be able to see the first fight, it's _bound_ to be spectacular. You simply _must_ remember it for me…"

 _First fight? What fight? Who's fighting…_

Another growl, this time thrumming eerily, like a laugh. Maybe it was. "Will do. Might be a bit disappointing, though. It might die before it's even begun."

"Maybe the Champion will just… seize up. Hmmm. That _would_ be pretty pathetic."

 _Champion…_

 _No._

Shiro hoped against the odds he was dreaming. Refusing to whimper or cry or scream, he covered his head and curled up as tight as he could.

 _I'm the Champion._

* * *

He's barely surprised to see Haggar again. _Of course,_ she'd be here. How or why- he didn't know. How could he?

The Black Paladin was quiet and quivering, laid on the cell floor, a type of tired panic raging in the back of his mind. He's still so _tired_ , and _weak_ , and his body is so _heavy_ and it won't respond to anything…

She hisses. "Get up." Her voice, dark and slithering, her yellow eyes glowering down at him.

No eyes withholding such _evil_ should be able to be that bright, in his opinion. At least, that's what he _thought_ he believed. He wasn't sure.

So Shiro _doesn't_ get up, naturally.

The witch's eyes narrow at him and he swallows. "So… That's another thing we'll have to work on, I see… How unfortunate…" Haggar gestured nonchalantly to something behind her hooded frame, and reached out with one thin arm. He felt a painful tug on his neck. It was a yanking sensation, as dizzily, against his will, his aching head lifted. Shiro summoned a growl, his right leg kicking out furiously.

The chain around his neck must be sealed to the wall above him. Well, _that_ wasn't condescending.

"Up," His tormentor sneered again. Something- or someone- kicked his shifting leg. He resisted a yelp, or a snarl. _Anything_ to protest or show weakness, no matter how he wanted to fight. Shiro knew it'd get him nowhere.

The lost Paladin eventually, somehow ended up walking behind Haggar, glaring, hurting everywhere and occasionally growling at the three guards flanking him, two to the sides, one behind.

No chains pulled him along. His hands and ankles aren't even shackled, or restrained. There's a lack of metal or leather around his neck now.

Strange.

But, as much as the Champion kept snarling and delivering death glares his old Garrison Commanders would have been proud of-

He felt different emotions, then. A lurch in his heart, stabs of pain and loss and heartache.

But now he had little space to dwell on nostalgia and sentiments. He stood and watched, fearful, as Haggar turned to face him. It's an empty hallway. Grim black and the purple glow of the Galra crest all around him.

"I expect you to behave, Champion," Haggar hissed. She drew her slim, cruel face quite near his; he wondered how quickly he could lunge and snap at her hideous face. Probably wouldn't end well, yes, and a bit savage- but so was _everything_ Galra. He didn't have any longer to decide. Shiro settled on growling, baring his teeth only slightly.

And how alarmed he was, to see Haggar look rather smug and pleased at that particular action.

Before… She would have snarled… Hit him…

"We are going to see Prince Lotor. You _will_ behave- or you'll get the consequences…"

 _The Prince?_

Horror flickered within Shiro _. Zarkon_ had a _son_? An heir? Probably as evil as the huge douche of his father _himself_? He hadn't even _considered_ Zarkon could even find _someone_ who found _him_ attractive… They kept moving, and he silently snorted. No, it was probably some sort of arranged or forced bond…

Because, well, Zarkon wasn't _exactly_ the prettiest alien in the Universe.

* * *

Coming back from meeting Prince Lotor, well, Shiro felt his head may explode at one stage or another. The guards tossed him carelessly back in his cell and closed the door. He didn't move.

Breathing heavy. Heartbeat erratic. Thoughts racing…

Perhaps he wasn't the only one. When- and it was certain, he was sure of it, although he hated it- so when Team Voltron met Zarkon's son, maybe they'd be like him, too. Shiro madly hoped so.

If not, that'd be slightly awkward… Because he was frankly more scared of this new villain than Zarkon himself.

It wasn't his appearance- that part he was still grasping. Because Shiro could recognise Altean features anywhere- pointed ears, lean figure and the physique and nature of an elf out of some fantasy RPG, back on Earth. Prince Lotor hadn't spoken much, not until he and Shiro had been left alone. Haggar seemed to understand most of his motions, without a single word needed.

So then they'd been left alone.

At first, his plan was hopeless- the Black Paladin wanted, _needed_ to punch something, and that arrogant, smirking face seemed to be beckoning his Galra fist. How strange. (That sounded like it was directly from Keith's mindset.)

But the Prince hadn't… Well, it wasn't what he'd _expected._ He'd stood still for a while, and followed after by keeping a neat, exact perimeter of distance while he circled Shiro, eyeing him up and down, like some sort of ancient statue in a museum. After some time, he began speaking, his voice coming as a surprise- and nothing like his cruel father's.

Soft, gliding, almost _gentle_ \- like a whisper that was always hearable, like words carried by breezy winds, probably able to transcend into a booming, growling roar. He didn't need to use a direct threat every sentence, or even much of a vulgar tongue, as he'd somewhat imagined for Lotor to be threatening. It was more of a leer; the smooth curve of the Cheshire cat's grin; maybe it's what his mother would have sung to him in- how could something with such a beautiful voice be evil?

Of course, there was no 'I'm actually a good guy, just EMO' part to it.

He'd smirked when the guards had shoved him in roughly, had chuckled darkly when Shiro insulted him.

And then- Shiro hadn't even been able to _breathe_ for his confusion and terror, almost. Suddenly there had been a black blade against his throat. The Prince was behind him, one hand lightly tracing over his collarbone and shoulder as he talked. As if that was _right_ , and _casual_. As if Shiro wasn't extremely uncomfortable, trembling slightly, trying not to swallow because then he'd probably have a nice bleeding cut across his _neck_ -

"Shut your whining!"

Oh, _great_. So Shiro had been _whimpering_.

Somehow, he felt humoured, even as the three guards started shouting profanities in the Galra tongue, undoubtedly labelling him many things, names and lies that even the devil wouldn't have approved of.

He'd been slightly expecting it when one of the guards stomped in and randomly punched his face.

* * *

They'd chosen _decently_. Not spectacularly.

Prince Lotor gazed thoughtfully at the peculiar sight. Blue-green, brown-gold-white, dark green, blood red, and black-purple. Flashes of sharp teeth and spikes and claws. Unintelligible, barely coherent hisses and snarls. Wings and tails smashing against each other- it was quite pathetic, yet entertaining.

Looking most displeased, Haggar was glaring at the pile of limbs and colours.

The witch then blinked, catching the Prince's eyes, and her own yellow ones opened slightly- something akin to grudging apology as she grumbled.

Prince Lotor cleared his throat and raised one white eyebrow. "Ahem?"

Two pairs of eyes locked onto the Prince, their flailing and slashing ceasing abruptly. A blue tail, tipped with green, poked a yellow-brown ribcage.

Awkwardly, still tense with anger and heaving, the five untangled, and sat in a row.

Lotor watched them for the longest eternity. Only the slight growl, the twitch of a tail broke the silence. The guards remained ever blank. Haggar stood uneasily. Occasionally the pupil-less yellow eyes searched her Prince's for a trace of emotion. He stayed almost as closed off as the guards, simply inspecting the five she'd brought at his request.

His purple fingers stayed laced together as he rested his pointed chin on his hands- this was his thinking position, and it was pleasing to see his opposition grow unsettled by it every time they were faced with it.

These five were no exception. The Prince wondered who would break from the ranks first.

At last, he spoke. "Are these five the ones?"

"Yes, my Prince."

Lotor frowned at them. One of them shifted- the one with unnatural, blank, glowing grey-silver eyes and the colours of earth. He presumed it was of the Balmerans, although he wasn't sure why it looked so _strange_ , then. Haggar was furious at the intrusion of their standstill. She gave the creature a look the Prince presumed meant certain and painful repercussions. The Balmeran shivered in its rock-like skin.

"Very well." Lotor sat back, straight and tall in his Throne. All five were now moving every few ticks or so.

"Escort them to their cell- separate them, if they try to slit one another's throats again. As amusing as it is-" He sighed in a somewhat wistful tone, enjoying himself. "-Well, it wouldn't do to lose one of them so soon… Although…" His narrow eyes landed on the largest of the group, with its small, icy blue eyes, sharp teeth, and vast wings. Black and purple. "That one is certainly disposable, if your toy will cooperate… Will he?"

Haggar grinned slyly. "If all succeeds, yes. But I do believe the playing field should be set reasonably…" They both stared at the black one.

"After all- what's a 'Guardian Spirit of the Sky' without its wings?"

* * *

 **Next Chapter-**

Chapter 1: 'Playing' with the Druids.

 **Author's Note:**

[Unrequired.]


End file.
